Not So Bad

Our early morning trip to the fertility clinic for our intrauterine insemination wasn't so bad. In fact, it was kind of nice the way it worked out even if I did only get two hours of sleep. We left home at 5:30 which I know is normal for many people with regular jobs, but for me it's like entering an alternate reality. I had so little sleep I was punchy and delighted by the birds' activity and the clean smelling air. It seems like I've ovulated on a number of holidays this past year of trying to conceive: I know Thanksgiving and Christmas for sure off the top of my head, and I think a few more if I were to check back through my calendar. Every time this happens we think how nice it would be to say our baby was conceived on Thanksgiving. Or Christmas. Or Independence Day, with fireworks (even if it did happen in a doctor's office).

Because it's the 4th of July there were no workday commuters on the road so we breezed onto the 7:05 ferry and Delia shot her load for the lab early. While we were waiting for them to prep and analyze it, my brother-in-law brought our nephew Mr. Squishypants down to meet us for breakfast at McDonald's. Seeing his two year old self running with a huge grin down the sidewalk to meet us and listening to him giggle and pronounce all of his new words with so much babyish concentration and accomplishment was bliss, and of course a huge reminder of why we're going through all of this to try to get pregnant. Seeing my family on his face and in his expressions, seeing my sister and my grandpa and my grandma and my mom and even myself radiating from him is like being reborn into a world with more love.

The only medical office open in the entire many-floored building was the fertility clinic so we knew that everyone we saw coming in and going out was there for the same reason we were, and there were A LOT of people which was both reassuring and depressing. In my typical asshole fashion I couldn't help judging the people I saw and comparing myself to them. The first people I really took notice of were a somewhat unattractive couple with an overweight lady in high water track pants. I couldn't help feeling like "here we are: all of nature's duds who aren't supposed to breed." I prayed that our cup 'o cum wouldn't get mixed up with theirs.

We had a couple of hours to observe the other "duds". While I assessed them from a distance, trying to pinpoint their problems I promised Delia that I wouldn't allow myself to say shitty things like this once we have a kid, but look at her, the one in the designer camo sweatpants and glossy black bag: that dud is anorexic. No wonder she can't get pregnant! And listen to this other one with the smoker's cough sucking down the coffee; her man looks healthy enough but they don't stand a chance with what that girl's doing to her body. The duds by the window? She's clearly over forty.

I knew I should be ashamed of myself; do I want my child to be a judgmental ass the way I am, looking at total strangers and rejecting them them as "duds" in my head to make myself feel better about my own inadequacies?

Then we saw a beautiful couple, younger than we are, the picture of all-American vitality. I felt so much better after I saw them. They looked like the kind of people who never have anything go wrong for them. It made me feel better having them in our pool of duds, knowing that not all of us are so easy to point at and diagnose as being infertile because of natural selection. Maybe we're just impatient. Maybe we're "special". Maybe the things that are right with us are more important than whatever is wrong. Or maybe nothing was "wrong" with the perfect breeder couple. Maybe they're only in the big city for the holiday weekend before he heads off to war and is just banking some sperm for the love of his life to use in case he dies or gets his nuts blown off in Iraq. Who knows?

Last night after my nervous, bitchy anxiety mini-attack over stupid things (worrying about being late, worrying about driving, grinding my teeth with resentment over the shitty timing of things and the potential of missing one of the few things I love doing with a large group of strangers: watching fireworks) I had another attack, this one of self-loathing. Am I ready to be a parent when I deal so poorly with such tiny monkey wrenches being thrown into my plans? How would I feel if I had a kid who acted as ridiculously as I act? I'm going to screw my kid up by being a tense little asshole! No wonder I can't get pregnant!! BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING SHITHEAD!!! I should stop now before I create new life just to ruin it with my craziness!

But then it was morning and I didn't feel like an asshole anymore and good songs came on the radio while we were driving. Cowboy Junkies version of "Sweet Jane" off the Trinity Session at 5:53 am was surely a sign as was "Closer to Fine" on the way home. I can't believe there was a huge time in my life where I could sing along to that entire song without choking up and crying.

*****

The doctor stood there with the sealed envelope and told us it contained our report with Delia's sperm analysis. Even though we know her sperm is good, it was like fucking Oscar night or something waiting for him to rip it open and tell us if we were winners, especially since she shot a big load just day before yesterday: 36 million and some other numbers I didn't catch. They never tell you what is average or what would be considered superstud strength, they only tell you they're looking for a number over 10 million.

It was the same doctor who did my HSG (I thought I blogged about that, but I guess I didn't -- oops) so I felt comfortable that I was in good hands. He showed me the catheter and explained what he'd be doing. Of course I expected cramps, especially since I couldn't take any anti-inflammatory meds this time, but things started getting tense when he had to throw the catheter into the sink and get another one. More poking and cramping that felt like it HAD to be penetration and another catheter thrown in the sink as he explained that it had no bearing on my ability to get pregnant, but that my cervix is angled, ACUTELY angled (because of my tipped uterus), in such a way that it just makes his job a wee bit harder. Before he threw the third catheter in the sink he showed me how the soft tip simply bent over when being confronted with my cervix. Finally with the fourth catheter he got it threaded in all the way and shot me up with Delia's specially washed sperm. We stayed in the exam room with me lying on my back for the recommended fifteen minutes to allow the sperm to swim up my tubes and I wished we'd brought our cameras because we could have shot some gyn porn or at least behind the scenes footage all that time. I was tempted to steal one of the catheters and our syringe, but worried we'd get "caught" and be thought of as freaks even though it's all just garbage and we PAID for that garbage. Oh well.

I'm feeling mildly crampy and uncomfortable tonight, but I don't know if that's the after-effects of the IUI or general ovulation crampiness heightened by the Clomid which can get bad enough that it wakes me up at night. Anyway, it's not exactly painful right now, just vaguely sore, tender and tight-feeling.

Now we've got another two week wait.

Again with the Not Pregnant!

Even with all our machinations I am NOT PREGNANT.

Took a test this morning: NEGATIVE. Period started a few hours later. It's disappointing, but a lot less stressful than some cycles simply because we knew when I ovulated which means we knew when my period was due and it came exactly on time so there wasn't any guessing or unusually lengthy, drawn-out wait.

Our plan for this fresh cycle is to do another round of Clomid (starting on Saturday, assuming the doctor calls my prescription in on time) and try an intrauterine insemination (IUI) this time. We may or may not do a few other things, too (more tests, more drugs, etc.). We'll see what happens . . .

(IN)Fertile (?) Trixie

Some loosely connected thoughts and reflection on how it feels to stake out a space on the internet that you might not qualify for, and what it means to be fertile or infertile (or something in between):

I knew when I started this blog and bought the domain FertileTrixie.com that it could be a misnomer; while the majority of sex I've had in my life has been protected, I have also had a lot of UNprotected sex with a number of men (plus one busted condom) when I was not on hormonal birth control over the years and never once gotten pregnant (that I know of); at thirty-four years of age when we started trying last year, I knew that there could be a reason I've never had an unplanned pregnancy and that the reason could be infertility. I'm not trying to brag about having unsafe sex, just sharing the information so it can be applied to our attempts to conceive now.

Anyway, by putting myself out on the internet as "Fertile" Trixie, I didn't assume that I actually was/am fertile; I just hoped for the best. I also considered other names, like PregnantTrixie, FecundTrixie, TrixieGrows, TrixieBreeds, BreederTrixie, etc. I dismissed all of those for one reason or another and chose FertileTrixie because I like the idea of exploring fertility both as a sexual fetish and in a broader way. I like the idea of thinking of myself as fertile, whether I'm able to get pregnant or not, naturally or not.

While I knew there was a chance getting pregnant could be a challenge, I didn't dwell on it or plan ahead for what I/we would do if it wasn't easy, except to agree that it wouldn't be the end of the world. I did know I might feel awkward about calling myself something I might not be, but not so worried about it that I'd avoid it by waiting to develop this site until after I'd gotten pregnant or after the first trimester or whatever. It's not my style to *wait* (which is part of what makes this so hard) or to keep secrets just to avoid fallout.

Our ongoing experience of unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant is teaching me a lot and making me reconsider many of my opinions and positions on fertility issues, parenthood, myself, my spiritual beliefs (and disbeliefs), privacy, human nature, and the in/fertility industry(ies). I plan to blog about those things in more detail.

One major expansion that's widened in my mind is between the definitions of "fertility" and "infertility"; fertility (like sexuality and so many other things) is more of a spectrum or a collection of many attributes (not just one: fertility or infertility), especially with where medicine and science are at. There are so many *small* things that can interfere with getting pregnant that don't really mean a person or couple is INfertile: hostile cervical mucous, being out of shape or overweight, ejaculating too often, residual effects of hormonal birth control, having debris in fallopian tubes that can often be easily unblocked through testing, etc. These are hurdles that can be overcome with time or exercise or a relatively simple procedure that's far less of a big deal and expense than getting your wisdom teeth pulled. In other words, you can be hugely fertile in the most necessary ways (popping healthy eggs, producing healthy sperm) but just struggling with some interference.

I like that. It makes sense to me; I'm not INfertile; something is just INTERFERING with my FERTILITY.

I can't stop thinking about when my dad was intubated; his lungs were so bad he started hallucinating and the doctors had to traumatize his body further by hooking him to a machine to breathe for him ("hooking up" is such a misleading way to describe intubation, but anyway). He was on death's doorstep. The doctor asked us if he had a living will or had ever instructed us what to do if he were on life support. My dad had been very specific all our lives that he wasn't to be kept alive artificially, but we knew that THIS WAS DIFFERENT! The doctor made me feel like I was defying his wishes by insisting he stay hooked up to the respirator, but I'd just had normal conversations with my dad twelve hours earlier! It wasn't like he'd been in a car accident and had his brain bashed in and would be rendered a vegetable. Even though my dad would have died without the machines, there was a whole lot more grey area than I'd been prepared for when thinking about "life support" on a theoretical level. It wasn't a decision my dad or any of us could have prepared for in advance. My dad was glad we didn't pull the plug on him; even though the few years he lived after that were hard and his quality of life was severely diminished, he was unequivocally thankful to be alive.

It used to be easy for me to say I would never do anything artificial to have a baby, just like it used to be easy for my dad to say he didn't want to be kept alive by life support machines. Now I recognize that there are lots of medical and natural methods of boosting fertility, and obviously not all of them involve fertility drugs and test tubes. Of course, I must have known that on an intellectual level before, but didn't bother to think that hard about it when I developed my harshly judgmental positions on fertility treatments and the people who use them. And now that *I* am in the position where the most artificial methods of conception might be our only options? You bet we are considering them, even the test tubes and Clomid. And I can't help feeling that if there is a God or Karma or a threefold law, that I am GETTING WHAT I DESERVE right now. That I have brought this tribulation upon myself by being a snotty, judgmental, know-it-all little bitch.

In some ways I'm grateful for this experience, even though it's hard. It's an opportunity to grow that I couldn't have planned for and wouldn't have chosen so it feels valuable to me. It's also become an opportunity to blog about something that is/has been a struggle for a whole lot of people. Many women can relate to this, whereas fewer women can relate to what I usually blog about (being a webwhore). It could be something that bridges the porn gap, which will be interesting (and potentially challenging) to see develop.

*****

After the past six periods or so we've gone through the same thing, We'll try it one more time the natural way. Because every cycle we learn something new or do something different or have different interruptions. We know Delia's sperm is good, and now we know that my tubes are not blocked, my hormones levels are right, and there's nothing obviously wrong with my uterus or ovaries. We know more tricks than we knew before and have only been really consistent with testing for ovulation in the past three or four cycles. We now know we really shouldn't jump the gun just because my hormone levels are rising, but need to WAIT UNTIL AFTER IT'S FOR SURE.

And we know we can't be trying to shoot tons of porn content and doing a bunch of webcam shows where Delia's spilling her precious goddamn seed so this month? We've got a more stringent cut-off date on our calendar for all of that.

So. We're not going to take any fertility drugs or try to inseminate me in a doctor's office . . . not, THIS month, anyway.

Officially Off the Pill

Even though the last pill I took was back on Saturday (over a week ago), yesterday was the first day I was officially off the pill since all but one of the days in between were sugar pill / period days.

So I guess this means I'm officially at risk of getting pregnant now. Bwahahahaha!!! I don't know why that sounds so deliciously evil and naughty to me, like I'm bucking everything civilized to do something old, earthy and primitive.

But I thought you didn't WANT to have kids!?!

So.

Most people were surprised by our announcement to try to get pregnant. Surprise is a reasonable reaction considering how vocally anti-breeder we've been at times. Here's the deal, though: it's not that I didn't ever want kids, it's that I mostly wanted something else more (to focus on work, each other, freedom, etc.). Up until now. It's not that we had some giant change of heart, it's just that IT'S TIME. It's what we've grown to want, and want now.

Naturally you've not heard of this growing urge to breed because we didn't feel the need to talk about it. It's the kind of thing I've always preferred to keep private partly because I wanted to discourage people from pressuring me to have kids or hurry up, blah blah blah. It's been easier to just say "not going to happen" or "slight chance in A BILLION YEARS" than to give people an opening to pester us about it.

Also, we didn't really talk about it much with each other. In the past year, though, this first year of my nephew's life, we've been so smitten with him, with each other, with family that we didn't need to say very much to each other to confirm what we were feeling: this baby thing . . . it's pretty fucking amazing. Delia and I passed many "are you thinking what I'm thinking?" looks at each other along with resigned sighs. Happily and nervously resigned to wanting to make a baby together.

I think we'd have held off for another year or two except that with Tucker transitioning to Delia full time and planning to go on hormones the time is NOW. Not in a high-pressure way, like "oh god we have to do this now or it will be TOO LATE!", but in an exciting and natural way, like all of the pieces are falling into place. I have always loved those times in my life when circumstances didn't permit me to agonize over a decision and instead just plopped a quick choice in my lap with a big fat arrow pointing to YES, saying "pick me!!!" Now is one of those times when "yes" is smiling in my lap.

I do still feel strongly that it's totally fucked up that we as a society default to thoughtless reproduction. I think people are brainwashed and stupefied into having too many kids and that alternative life paths that don't include breeding aren't presented as satisfying, valuable and fulfilling options. I think it's ridiculous when people act as though a person's missing out on The Most Important Experience In Life by not breeding. And I can think of nothing more deluded and dumb than breeders accusing those who are childless by choice of SELFISHNESS. Having kids has got to be one of the most incredibly selfish and self-centered things we humans are programmed to do.

I'll be the first to admit that me wanting to have kids? It's a primitive and selfish impulse that drives me. Oh, it FEELS more beautiful and sacred than some greasy old evolutionary drive to procreate, but it still is what it is. And I am thrilled that I'm not too advanced to want to rise above it. I want to be part of this thing, ALL THE WAY. I want the person I chose who chooses me back to put his/her soupy swimmers inside me and make the magic happen. I want to delight in the marvelous combination of us come to life in a new body. Our baby will grow up to have long legs and be loved by us.

I know it makes me an ass to feel this way, but I think we're just too fucking awesome NOT to have kids.

Am I Fertile?

Here's the thing: I don't even know if I can get pregnant. I'm thirty-four years old and as far as I know, I've never been pregnant. In spite of having unprotected sex at supposedly risky times, I've never been pregnant that I know of.

*****

For two or three years Tucker and I didn't use any "real" birth control, just withdrawal around about the times we thought we might need to be concerned / I might be ovulating. As far as I know I never got pregnant in spite of the fact that Tucker does produce quite a bit of precum and there were a few times where we weren't paying very close attention to the calendar. It's possible one or both of us is infertile. He has some varicose veins wrapped around his balls, so they could be too hot to keep sperm alive.

Anyway, if I'm not fertile it won't be the end of the world. I doubt we'll go crazy or go to fertility experts or any of that; we'll probably just figure we're meant to be childless. I hope I'm fertile though. I FEEL fertile.